August 18, 18XX. The Castle of Cordes burnt to the ground and the ashes of the servants scattered with the breath of wind.

The novel, "I Became the Beloved Daughter" met the epilogue. As the villainous family heads' were butchered for treason while the loud cheers of the nobles echoed in the royal palace.

The adored heroine danced in the arms of her beloved prince. No traces of the abuse she received appeared in her divine blue eyes. And her little 'injured' feet couldn't help but leisurely follow the music.

The prince, Malcolm Ron Dives, celebrates his engagement as the glasses clinked together as loud laughter oscillates to the crystal chandeliers towards the red paintings on the white marble walls, just like the slashings of the swords, and the hymn of death emerged to the clouds.

...

And it rained.

In the distance, drenched in the smell of vengeance, stood 'Scarecrow.'

Hidden in the fog, on the limb of the tree, pale skinny fingers scratched the wet bark of the wood. She stood there in a worn-out duffel coat.

The abandoned daughter, and the only survivor of the House of Cordes, Roxanne Vos Cordes.

A hissing sound drowned in the pouring of tears, coated with blood and thirst, it quietly drowned to say, "Their lives were mine, dare you steal it, you mere low lives!"

In hands of 'Scarecrow', this might be the unpleasant ending of thirteen years of plotting where she uselessly covered her hands with red threads manipulating, deceiving, killing, bribing, and making every one her marionette. Her scheme met the same ending as that house, dying embers.

But to Roxanne, this was her new beginning away from the strings that tied her neck to the gallows. Scars are to grow old without new ones coming.

The fragile body heals but is the woven soul free? Free from all the memories of that 'captivating' house?

As the panicked wind blew in her way and the leaves let down the dazzled drops, it has revealed the silver hair caressed by the frosty breeze and agitated magenta eyes.

Back on the ground, she gripped the wet saddle and pulled the reins. "Let's go, Ataraxia!"

Amidst the storm and chaos, Roxanne was to meet the 'system.'

…

"I will renew the contract," she said as she stood against the broken mirror. "I will do it again."

The broken reflection of hers grinned, the eyes smile to be the shape of the crescent moon, and fangs brushed along the red lips.

"Human... you are trying to twist the woven thread in your soul. To survive one death, do you think you can survive jumping into another one?"

"Shut your mouth! That wasn't the ending I fought for! I didn't leave Earth to be a pitiful creature! I demand my revenge." She taunted as she bit her thumb.

"I can't do that. The story of you has ended. You shall be back to your world, traveller." It spoke in a cold, unnerving voice.

Roxanne put her hands on her chest; in a desperate attempt to calm her quivering heart. As the memories of this world and her world collided.

Those magenta eyes of hers sweated as the dreadful memories haunted her. And her pale face grew blue.

She swallowed the last ounce of pride she had, "Ple- "

And before the words slipped out of her mouth. It spoke, "You can come back here but under a condition," the eerie creature stated.

"For you to be able to savour this revenge, you shall go back to Earth and complete your mission."

And just as soon as a smile was about to curve her chapped lips, it continued. "Failure means the end of our contract."

Roxanne looked at her only champion, Ataraxia, with slumped eyes. And gazed back at the system, "Can I take her with me?"

*A creature that isn't a traveller can't move between universes. Their body will vaporize in thin air before they see the light again.

"I will accept it. But the price will be all the points you gathered."

Roxanne caressed her forehead along the coal-black horse's nose bridge. Her gaze shifted from the cowardly mist to one filled with aplomb.

"Such cheap price to sacrifice for my saver in this hideous novel."

"Well then, Traveller #$&! Stay sane this time"!

…

The smell of sweat and the flavours of the street, the commercials banners across the glass buildings, drunk men stumbling on taxis, students heading home from institutions, and the Bridge of Death standing tall on the Han River.

"I am back, Seoul."